


A Closet Full of Bones

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's afraid of something. When Damian wakes up alone in the dark, he comes face to face with this reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Closet Full of Bones

When Damian woke up, the bunker was dark. Grayson wasn’t standing at his computer anymore— the screen was black, and everything was quiet. Damian slid off the medic bed he’d been using for his nap and took a few steps towards the door, immediately crashing into the first aid cart. A tray full of metal instruments clattered to the floor.  
“Damn,” he muttered, bending down to pick them up. He could barely see anything— Damian fished in his pocket for his phone and flicked on the flashlight, running the narrow beam across the concrete. He set his handful of scalpels back on their tray, straightened up, and _froze_.  
There was a human skeleton lying on the table.  
_Oh god. What was that doing there?_ Damian stumbled back, gasping a little. He was finding it hard to breathe. _Oh god._  
Calm down, he told himself. It was evidence. Nothing else. It couldn’t hurt him— heaven knew he’d seen his share of bodies. This was normal. Everything was fine.  
But somehow, the bones were different. He couldn’t explain it— he didn’t know why the skull of a dead man made his hands shake, but he knew with every too-quick beat of his heart that he was _afraid_. He could feel the fear running down his spine, spreading from his trembling hands to the soles of his bare feet. It was everywhere.  
And he was ashamed. _No_. He was Damian, the son Batman himself, heir to the al Ghul dynasty. He was Robin, and he would not be afraid. He was stronger than that. He wouldn’t fear the dead or the dark—neither of them could touch him. Damian let out a shuddering breath he hadn’t known he was holding. It was just a body. Just a body. Only bones.  
Damian looked down at his own shaking fingers— those were bones too. He was suddenly aware of himself: muscle and blood and stuttering lungs. He could feel his pulse beating against his collarbone. There was sweat dripping down his back. He was alive, breathing. But inside, only bones.  
He wondered whose bones those were, lying on his table. Damian slid his light along the pile, pausing at the jumbled mess of ribs.  
He didn’t want to look at it anymore.  
Damian stumbled back. He needed the lights. Where were the lights? He spun his phone across the room, searching, until the beam settled on Grayson’s cowl, thrown over the top of his chair. Damian froze again, staring at it. An image sprung into his head of the same cowl wrapped around burnt bones, and suddenly he was _convinced_ that he knew the skeleton on the table. Those were his father’s bones, Batman’s body. Who else could it be? _Oh god, oh god._ The fear was back. He was shaking again. His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe.  
“Al Ghuls don’t die. Al Ghuls don’t die,” he whispered to himself as he backed towards the door. “You’re fine. They don’t die. You’re fine.”  
But he was a Wayne now, and it seemed that Waynes died often. _No, don’t think._ He could make it to the door. It was just behind him.  
“Grayson?” he called. His voice echoed off the concrete walls. “Grayson!”  
In the darkness, he could picture his grandfather climbing from the pit, dripping green behind him. _No_. That wasn’t what he wanted either. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to rise. He just wanted to keep living, keep his bones locked inside him. Keep them off the table.  
“Grayson!” Damian turned and sprinted for the door, wrenching it open and spilling into the sunlight. He slumped back against it, pulling air into his hungry lungs. He made it. No more skeletons.  
Damian could hear footsteps coming down the hall. In the second before they rounded the corner, he made a decision— when Grayson appeared, he launched himself at his waist, tackling him to the floor.  
It wasn’t a hug. Nobody could call that a hug, but it was close. Damian lay on top of his brother for a few seconds, hoping Grayson couldn’t feel his heart pounding. Then he rolled off.  
“Sorry. Instinct. I didn’t hear you coming in.”  
“What the hell?” Dick complained, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I thought we were working on that assassin thing.”  
“Yeah,” Damian muttered. “Working on it.” His heart was slowing down now. It was easier to breathe. He pulled his knees up to his chest and asked his question.  
“Whose bones?”  
“Oh.” Grayson sighed. “I don’t actually know. They found them by the bridge a few hours ago— I was waiting for the test results to come in.”  
There. Not his father’s body. Damian took a deep breath. When he looked up, Grayson was regarding him guilty.  
“I probably shouldn’t have left you in there by yourself.”  
“I wasn’t scared.”  
“I believe you.” Grayson straightened up and offered him a hand. “But even if you were… you know that’s fine, right?”  
“I’m not afraid of anything.”  
“Okay.” Dick pulled him to his feet and gestured to bunker door. “I’m gonna go take care of that. Can you talk to the police? I didn’t get the chance.”  
“Yes.” Damian started down the hallway.  
“And after you do that, go to bed, okay? You don’t have to come back in.”


End file.
